


I'll be your Shelter, I'll be your Storm

by missandrogyny



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Kisses, Kissing, M/M, like lots of fluff i really don't know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 23:47:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missandrogyny/pseuds/missandrogyny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just pay me back with one thousand kisses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll be your Shelter, I'll be your Storm

Enjolras still doesn't know how this happened.

One second, Courfeyrac was bounding into his flat and onto his sofa, rambling about flats and landlords and Grantaire, of all things, and the next he's leaving with a cheery wave, his phone open to an unfinished text message, and an instruction not to be mean to Grantaire when he moves in.

Enjolras is left staring at his retreating figure, wondering what the hell is happening to his life.

\---

Combeferre calls a bit later, as Enjolras is settling down at his desk to work on an article.

"I heard from Courfeyrac," he says, no pretenses whatsoever.

"Heard what exactly?" Enjolras asks.

Combeferre ignores him.

"I think it's good for you," he says. "You've been alone, I was starting to get worried."

"There's nothing to worry about," Enjolras says. "I'm fine on my own. I function when I'm on my own."

"Barely." Combeferre snorts.

Enjolras sighs. 

"Look." Combeferre says, and that tone makes even Enjolras stop. "I think this'll help a lot. Also, you'd be helping Grantaire out. And who knows, this might be healthy for you."

Enjolras gapes. "What?"

"I have to go, Enj. I've got class in a bit. I'll drop by later, we can talk about it then.

He hangs up and Enjolras is left gaping at his phone.

He puts it down on his desk and refocuses on the article, pushing the conversation to the back of his mind.

\---

Things become clearer when, later, Enjolras' phone chimes with a text from Grantaire.

 _hey_ , it says.  _was courfeyrac lying?  
_

 _Depends,_ Enjolras replies, taking a break. He picks up his coffee and drinks, wincing when he realizes it's gone cold.  _What did he say?_

The reply is almost instantaneous.

_he said i could move in with u._

_About that,_  Enjolras replies.  _why do you need a place? What's wrong with your apartment?_

The reply takes a bit a longer, so Enjolras leaves his phone on his desk to get a new cup of coffee, and when he gets back, there's a text waiting.

_well i cant pay rent this month nd my landlord already threatened 2 kick me out so courf said he'll find me a place nd he told me 2day that i could move in with u. so was he lying?_

Enjolras sips his coffee as he thinks. On one hand, he does have an extra bedroom (which he converted into an office, but still, extra) and lots of empty space. On the other hand, he's never lived with anyone before. His parents were mostly content to let him be in their huge house, and he tended to look after himself only. Having a flatmate would be messy, especially if it was Grantaire, and could interfere with his work. 

Before he can decide, he receives another text.

 _it's ok,_ it reads _. i can always find some place else._

He's almost tempted to just let Grantaire find another place, but he knows he'll feel guilty about it later, denying one of his friends living space, even if said friend was Grantaire. 

 _No need,_ Enjolras therefore finds himself replying _. You can stay with me. I've got a spare bedroom and lots of space. It'll be fine._

 _u sure?_  the next text reads and Enjolras doesn't even think, just replies.

_Yes. You can move in by next week._

With that, he puts his phone in a drawer and proceeds to do some work. He hears it chime, but he doesn't read it, forcing himself to focus on the things laid out in front of him.

It's only when he finishes, three hours later, does he allow himself to look.

 _thanks :)_ , the text reads, and Enjolras has to put his head in his hands, and wonder what in hell has he gotten himself into.

\---

By next week, Grantaire shows up on his doorstep, with all his stuff in boxes. Bahorel and Courfeyrac are with him, claiming to help with the moving. Enjolras just rolls his eyes; Grantaire didn't have that much stuff.

The spare bedroom has already been cleared for him. Enjolras had gotten Combeferre to help him move the desk and some of the books, and so the room is spacious and bright. Grantaire actually whistles when he sees it.

When they get out, Courfeyrac is lying on the couch, his feet on Bahorel's lap. His head is on Combeferre's lap, who must have arrived while they were in the room. He's reading a book, seemingly unconcerned at the man sprawled on top of him.

"Courfeyrac and Bahorel ordered pizza," he says without taking his eyes off the book. "Also they invited everyone else over."

Enjolras just sighs. 

\---

By the time the pizza arrives, everyone else has as well, and are arguing about what movie to watch. There's shouting and kicking, and pillows being thrown in one direction to the other, and Enjolras can just watch his friends in a mixture of amusement and horror.

They finally agree on The Avengers. Enjolras ends up trapped under Courfeyrac, who refused to move from his position on the couch.

He ends up watching his friends more than the movie. He enjoys watching the way they interact with each other, making jokes and laughing, and at one point, pausing the movie to tease Marius, who arrived late and was blushing.

Later, once everyone's left, and they're left cleaning up, Grantaire clears his throat.

"So, um, you haven't discussed rent with me yet."

Enjolras doesn't even look up from where he's washing the dishes.

"Right, well, I already paid for the rent this month, so you don't really have to." 

Grantaire frowns. 

"Still though, I feel like I should pay you back somehow."

"You really don't have to," Enjolras insists. "It's fine. It really is."

"No, but I want to. To show my gratitude and everything."

Enjolras really isn't in the mood to argue. So he says "Well, if you want to, just think of something and let me know. I've got an 8:30 class tomorrow, so I'm off to bed. Goodnight."

He doesn't wait for an answer, just puts the last dish on the rack and goes off to his room to prepare for bed.

\---

When he gets back from his class the next day, he finds Grantaire sitting on the dining table, clad in only his boxers. His head is pillowed in his arms, and he seems to breathing deeply.

"Morning," Enjolras chirps, just because he can, and Grantaire jumps.

"Morning," Grantaire yawns, then rubs his eyes and stretches. He seems unconcerned with his nakedness, so Enjolras doesn't mention it.

He makes his way to the cupboard and pulls out two mugs. The coffee maker's already running; Grantaire must have turned it on before he fell asleep on the table. There's a pot ready, so Enjolras switches it off and pours coffee into the mugs. He hands one to Grantaire, who smiles at him sleepily.

He slides into the seat opposite Grantaire. He can feel Grantaire's eyes on him, but he ignores it, choosing instead to focus on adding sugar to his coffee.

He looks up when Grantaire clears his throat.

"So." Grantaire says, staring at his hands, purposely avoiding his gaze. "Have you eaten?"

"I grabbed a sandwich on the way to school." That's a lie, he hasn't eaten. He was about to, then he got caught up scowling at the morning news, and was almost late to class. "You?"

Grantaire snorts. "I would, but there's nothing here. Do you starve yourself or something? I was thinking of doing the grocery later."

"You do that," Enjolras answers, and they lapse into silence again.

"So, uh." Grantaire starts. "I thought of a way to pay you back."

"Oh?" Enjolras raises an eyebrow at him. He thought Grantaire would forget about that conversation. "Do tell."

"Yeah, it's uh...." Grantaire trails off, staring into his coffee cup. "I was thinking of paying you back with a thousand kisses."

Enjolras almost chokes on his coffee. 

"I mean," Grantaire continues, oblivious to Enjolras' struggle. "You told me to think of something, and well, I thought about it last night, and I decided I'd pay you back with a thousand kisses, and it didn't seem like such a bad idea...." he trails off again.

"A thousand kisses." Enjolras says, just to make sure he heard right. 

"Uh, yeah. I mean, if you don't want to, it's fine, I could just think of something else. Maybe I could give you a lap dance or something." Grantaire muses.

"No, no it's fine." Enjolras says, having recovered. He'd rather not have a lap dance. "The kisses, I mean. The kisses are fine."

"They are?" Grantaire asks, skeptical.

"Yeah," he answers, and a part of his mind is wondering about what he's actually doing. "But how will you keep track?"

"Well, I was thinking I'd make a tally mark on my sketchbook or something."

"Okay," Enjolras agrees. "Okay, I guess. Well, I've got to meet Combeferre soon, I just came home to grab some books." He stands. "I'll see you later."

Grantaire stands as well. "Yeah, I've gotta get ready for class too." He walks over to where Enjolras is standing, and hesitates. But he steels himself, and kisses him on the cheek. "I'll see you."

Grantaire pads out of the kitchen, leaving Enjolras to stare at his retreating back, frozen. He shakes himself, then dashes to his room to grab his books then out the door, shooting a text to Combeferre.

\---

It's unnerving how quickly he gets used to the kisses. By the third day, he's no longer startled when Grantaire pops out of nowhere to press a kiss to his forehead, his shoulder, his cheek. He just watches as Grantaire makes a tally on his sketchbook, and returns to doing his work.

The amount of kisses he'd get depended on Grantaire's mood. There are times when he'd walk in the door and get accosted by at least five kisses, before Grantaire bounds off to get his sketchbook to mark it. There are other times though, when he only gets one, pressed gently to the top of his head.

He doesn't know what he's doing. He knows he and Grantaire have never been the closest of friends, and he knows that their arguments can devolve into something horrible and extremely personal, but since he moved in, they've been tiptoeing around each other, avoiding talking about Grantaire's method of payment.

But even if they avoid talking about it, the kisses don't stop, and Enjolras can't bring himself to make it stop.

\---

Their group of friends meet at the Musain every Thursday night. It's a tradition, started when they were in their freshman year of college. Courfeyrac had stumbled upon the place, called Enjolras and Combeferre, and by the next week, everyone appeared to talk about protests and rallies and current events.

Enjolras arrives at the Musain with Grantaire, and Grantaire presses a kiss on his cheek before he goes off to the bar.

Enjolras makes his way over to Courfeyrac and Combeferre, who are staring at him with undisguised surprise on their face.

"What?" Enjolras asks his two friends.

"I may be seeing things, but did Grantaire just kiss you?" Courfeyrac asks. Combeferre coughs lightly, trying to hide his face.

Enjolras mentally curses. "Yeah, he did, but it's not like that." 

"Then what is it like?" Combeferre asks, eyebrow raised.

"He wanted a way to pay me back for paying the rent this month, that's all." Enjolras says. He can feel his cheeks heating up from embarrassment.

"So....you suggested making him kiss you." Courfeyrac says, grinning. "Our fearless leader has a sex drive after all!"

"It's not like that! He said he'd pay me back with a thousand kisses."

"And...you agreed?" Combeferre asks.

"I didn't want a lap dance." Enjolras is sure that his face is pretty red by now.

"Right, well." Combeferre straightens up and cleans his glasses. "Just, be careful, okay?" 

Enjolras gives him a blank look.

Combeferre sighs. "Never mind. Now let's get this meeting started?"

"Right." Enjolras says, and he calls the meeting into order.

\---

Grantaire argues with him that night.

In the few weeks that they'd lived together, they never once argued. They had a delicate truce between them, something neither of them tried to break. But it shattered tonight.

"But that's stupid," Grantaire interrupts, at least three drinks beyond reason. "Are you naive? The government won't take notice of a bunch of schoolboys screaming for attention."

"They will take notice," Enjolras grits out, "because the people will be screaming with us."

"What makes you think that the people will rise up with you hm? Why? Is it because you're fighting for the right thing, for freedom and justice and equality? People before you have fought for those things, and nothing's changed. Do you really think you can make a difference?"

"Yes," Enjolras answers. "Because the people want those things as well. Because the people are inherently good, and we are fighting for the betterment of the people. We are fighting for their rights."

"I don't know," Grantaire says, taking a swig from his bottle. "To me you just sound like a bunch of overgrown babies, who think that if you scream loud enough, you'll get the attention you want."

Enjolras can feel his blood boiling. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides, but he knows his face is calm, expressionless.

"Grantaire." His voice is cool, calm and deadly. "Go home."

"Why, because you know I'm right?"

"Because you're drunk. Go home. I don't have the time and patience to listen to the ramblings of a useless drunk."

He regrets the words as soon as he says it, but he keeps his eyes locked on Grantaire, his hands still curled up into fists.

Grantaire stands, shaking. His bright blue eyes are trained at Enjolras' own, and there's a beat when everybody holds their breath.

Then Grantaire marches up, presses a kiss on Enjolras' cheek, and turns away and out into the street.

Enjolras' sighs, and rubs a hand on his face. "Now, let's continue."

He purposely avoids his friends' looks, and instead continues talking about the rally they were organizing.

If his friends send him concerned glances, he pretends not to notice it.

(And, well, if Grantaire wakes up with a glass of water and a paracetamol next to him, he pretends not to know about that too.)

\---

After that night, everything returned to normal.

Or, what normal was before Grantaire moved in.

They get on each others' throats almost every other day now, over things as trivial as coffee (Grantaire likes his black, Enjolras likes his with three scoops of sugar), Grantaire's messes, or Enjolras' work habits.

Weeks pass, and they come close to killing each other no less than five times. They shout at each other until they're hoarse; until Enjolras storms into his bedroom, sulking, or until Grantaire leaves for the nearest bar.

There are moments though, when they would sit companionably on the sofa; Enjolras reading the news on his phone while Grantaire sketched. In these moments, they didn't speak, they simply took comfort in each other's company. These moments made Enjolras feel a warmth in his chest, made him feel content and happy.

But even if Grantaire was angry, sulking, or drunk, the kisses still kept coming, steadily. Sometimes Enjolras kept count, other times, he was content to let Grantaire do the counting. 

However, they never spoke of it, and left it well enough alone.

\---

Enjolras sighs and rubs his eyes and stifles a yawn. The text on his computer is getting blurry, but he needs to finish this tonight. He grabs his empty mug and stands up to go to the kitchen to get more coffee.

Instead of coffee, he finds Grantaire in the kitchen.

"I don't think you should be drinking coffee at this time of the night." Grantaire tells him, getting his mug from his hands and putting it into the sink.

Enjolras frowns at him. "But, I need to finish this paper!"

"What you need, Apollo, is rest. It's two in the morning." Grantaire counters.

"No, I need to finish this paper, then read an article, then---"

"No. Rest." 

Enjolras frowns even more, and Grantaire just chuckles. 

"Why are you still up, then?" Enjolras asks.

"I didn't want you to die of caffeine poisoning. So I've come to monitor your intake. Also, you're adorable like this."

"Am not."

"Yes, you are."

"Am n---" Enjolras gets cut off by a yawn. Grantaire just laughs even more.

"See, you've got to go to sleep." He places his hands on Enjolras' shoulders, and steers him into the room, past the desk and into the bed. Enjolras hadn't realized how tired he was, but when his back touches the bed, he finds himself almost succumbing to sleep immediately.

Grantaire smiles. "Good night, Apollo."

He presses a kiss onto Enjolras' forehead, and moves away.

"Wait." Enjolras says, his hand reaching out to grab Grantaire's arm. "How many's that?"

"How many's what?"

"The kiss."

Grantaire smiles again. "If you must know, that's number two hundred and forty-three." He stops for a moment and presses another kiss to Enjolras' forehead. "There, that's number two hundred and forty-four."

"Two hundred and forty-four," Enjolras repeats dazedly. He lets go of Grantaire's arm.

Grantaire stands. "Good night." He lingers for a bit, and says something, but Enjolras is too far gone to understand.

He dreams of kisses and a phantom warmth against his forehead.

\---

"Jesus fucking Christ, what happened to you?" Grantaire demands the instant Enjolras walks through the door. He was sitting on the couch, watching a show about cupcakes, but immediately stands when he catches sight of Enjolras.

"It's not that bad," Enjolras answer defensively. 

"It's not that bad, my ass." Grantaire mutters, reaching for his chin. He tilts Enjolras' face towards the light. "Fuck if I believe that."

"It really isn't." Enjolras insists.

Although he knows he can't possibly look that good. He's got a scrape above his left eye which was currently dripping blood down his face. On his right cheek, there was probably a purple bruise blooming from when a protester punched him. His own knuckles were scraped and bruised.

Grantaire sighs, and releases his chin. He doesn't say anything, just goes to the bathroom and pulls out the first aid kit from under the sink. He then wets a piece of cloth, and returns to the living room. He motions for Enjolras to sit.

"I told you the rally was dangerous." he muttered, as he cleaned Enjolras' face with the cloth. "You are such an idiot sometimes, God, Enjolras."

"Well, at least I was doing something productive, rather than sit on the couch and watch shows about cupcakes." Enjolras retorts, wincing as the cloth grazes his wound.

The corner of Grantaire's lip twitches up. "I was doing something productive. I was leaving the world alone and getting drunk on cheap vodka."

Enjolras snorts. "What you should've been doing is fighting for the rights of the people," he says, like they haven't been arguing this before.

Grantaire sighs. "Wait, hold still." He puts the cloth aside and pulls out the medicine. He carefully applies it on the cut, and then places a band aid after.

"Why do you believe in the rights of the people anyway?" He asks, moving to clean his knuckles. "Humans have unlimited needs and wants. They're not going to stop until they're satisfied. And they're never going to be satisfied."

"People are inherently good," Enjolras answers him. "Therefore, they will do the right thing, and help spread equality for all."

"Equality," Grantaire says, still focused on his is task. "That's a funny concept. What does it entail, actually? Same amount of money for everyone? Same amount of opportunities? Because that's never going to happen. People are selfish, greedy and cruel. They leave people out on the streets to die. And even if, let's say you do get to ensure equality for everyone, there's always going to be someone better. Whether it's in looks or in intellect, you cannot make everyone equal even in that, Enjolras."

Enjolras is frustrated. How does Grantaire not see that people are born good, that they're willing to do good things once taught and led properly? Enjolras just wants to prove it to him, compile sources, make a powerpoint, just show him that people are capable of change and are capable of being better. Wants to drill him, interrogate him, and _force_ him to see what Enjolras sees.

"Will you stop fidgeting? I can't clean this properly."

Enjolras sighs and stills his hands. "I believe," he says quietly, "that the world can be changed. That the people can be taught. Values can be ingrained into them, and once the people see the injustices of the world, they will be inclined to stop it. The people just need to realize that they themselves are not different from their countrymen, or from people across the world. They just need to realize that they are not special, or superior or inferior."

Grantaire snorts. "Say that to all the government officials," he quips, putting down the cloth and reaching for the ointment.

"Oh, I will, believe me." Enjolras smiles ruefully. "Why are you such a cynic?"

"I saw the world and deemed it bad." Grantaire answers cheerfully, carefully applying the ointment. "While you saw the world and declared the need for it to be saved."

He puts the ointment aside and lifts Enjolras' hand to inspect the cuts. Then he slowly uncurls Enjolras' fist and places a gentle kiss on the palm.

"I'll get you some ice for that," he says, nodding to the bruise on his right cheek, and goes off to the kitchen.

Enjolras can only nod in reply.

\---

"Reading the news?" Enjolras asks, one morning, when he sees Grantaire seated on the table, eyes on his phone.

Grantaire snorts. "Hardly. I hate the news, it's stupid. No, I'm looking for an apartment."

Enjolras freezes where he is. "An apartment?" he asks.

"Yeah." Grantaire answers, his eyes still focused on his phone. His one hand reaches out and curls around a half empty coffee mug. "Staying here was just a temporary thing, and I've imposed on your hospitality long enough. Just gotta get my finances sorted out. I've even picked up extra shifts in the cafe I work in, you know, so I can get out of your pretty blonde hair sooner."

Enjolras hadn't thought about the conditions of Grantaire staying before. He just accepted it that time because, well, because he didn't know what to do. But now, he realizes Grantaire staying couldn't have been permanent. He doesn't know why he thought otherwise. Grantaire was always looking at classified ads, always asking to borrow the newspaper or magazines when Enjolras was done with them.

But the thought of Grantaire leaving...didn't sit well with him.

"Okay." he says and Grantaire must've heard something in his voice because he's looking up, his phone forgotten on the table.

"Hey," he says, his eyes soft and gentle, and Christ, were his eyes always this blue? "You're gonna be late for class."

Enjolras swallows. "Right."

He makes his way to the cupboard and pulls out a mug. His actions feel stiff and unnatural, and he knows Grantaire is staring at him. He's about to pour a cup of coffee when he hears Grantaire sigh. 

"Apollo."

"Don't call me that." he answers, but he turns around. Grantaire is standing behind him, an arms length away. His eyes unreadable, and Enjolras can swear his eyes were never that striking before.

There is a moment, which could've been a few seconds or a few lifetimes.

Then slowly, Grantaire leans over and presses a kiss on Enjolras' cheek. It's nothing special compared to the other kisses, but Enjolras finds himself closing his eyes. Grantaire's lips stay there for a bit too long before he pulls away.

"Have a great day." 

He smirks at Enjolras, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Enjolras tries to smile back, but Grantaire is leaving quickly.

Enjolras is left standing in the middle of the kitchen; his skin warm and his heart beating rapidly.

\---

One evening, Enjolras wakes up to the sounds of someone falling on the floor.

A quick look at his phone says it's 4:35 am, and he's out of bed quickly, walking barefoot out of his room and into the living room.

There, sprawled magnificently on the floor is Grantaire, illuminated by the faint light from the window.

Enjolras yawns, and picks him up from the floor.

"Grantaire? Are you alright?" He asks.

Grantaire turns his head, and his face breaks into a wide smile.

"`Pollo! I missed you!" He slurs then clumsily throws his arms around Enjolras.

Enjolras grunts, and maneuvers them both onto the couch. Grantaire collapses onto it, and Enjolras sighs and goes to grab a trash can.

When he returns, Grantaire is squinting at him from his position in the couch.

"What?" Enjolras asks,  feeling self-conscious.

"Your hair." Grantaire says, reaching out a hand to curl a lock between his fingers. "It's....golden."

He plays with the lock a bit, and Enjolras feels himself flushing.

"You should go to bed," he says, when he finally finds the words.

Grantaire twirls his finger into the lock.

"Can't," he mumbles.

"Why not?" Enjolras asks. Grantaire has wound his finger tighter into his hair. 

"Because." Grantaire answers, and he's pushing himself up with his other hand, and planting a kiss on his cheek.

"`Cause you're not there when I sleep."

He plants another kiss on Enjolras' nose, then on the forehead, then on his eyelid. Enjolras for his part stays still, letting Grantaire place kisses wherever he wants to. He can feel his heart beating fast in his chest.

Grantaire leans forward and stops when they're almost nose to nose.

"`Cause you're not as beautiful in my dreams." He whispers, before he presses his lips on Enjolras'. It's a slight pressure, and it's soft and gentle and surprising, that it leaves Enjolras out of breath.

Grantaire pulls away and untangles his finger from Enjolras' curl. Then he slumps on the couch and curls in on himself.

"Good night," Enjolras say, for a lack of anything better to say.

"`Night, Apollo." Grantaire murmurs. "Love you."

(In the morning, when Grantaire wakes up from the couch with a pounding headache, Enjolras will avoid his eyes, and focus on his laptop.

He won't say anything until Grantaire has taken a paracetamol and is sliding into the seat opposite him, coffee in hand.

"Hey," he'll say. "I don't know if you remember, but you, uh, you kissed me five times last night. Just, maybe if you wanted to tally that."

Grantaire will raise his head to look at him, and answer. "Oh."

Grantaire will go into the living room, get his sketchbook from its hiding place, and open to a page filled with tally marks. He will make five quick strokes with the charcoal, and show Enjolras. "There."

"How many's that?" Enjolras will ask.

Grantaire will smirk at him. "Six hundred and twenty.")

\---

A week passes, then a month, and soon it's the middle of December. Their city is covered by a light dusting of snow, and it makes everything look so pure, so clean. Christmas carols fill the air, and bright Christmas lights are scattered all over the city.

His friends are in his apartment, getting drunk and watching Love Actually while waiting for the clock to strike twelve. It's tradition; they spend Christmas Eve at Enjolras' place, (because Enjolras owns the biggest apartment) and on Christmas Day, they go visit their families.

Enjolras loves his friends, he really really does. But sometimes he just needs some time for himself. So he finds himself walking towards the fire escape at the end of the hall.

When he gets there, he sees someone else had the same idea. Grantaire is leaning against the railing, a cigarette in hand.

"I thought you quit." Enjolras says, by way of greeting.

"I did, then the weather got cold." He takes a drag of his cigarette, before dropping it and crushing it with his shoe. He blows the smoke out, and Enjolras watches it curl above him.

"Something wrong, Enjolras?" Grantaire asks him and Enjolras tears his gaze from the smoke and onto Grantaire's face.

"No," he says, watching those blue eyes watch him. "I just needed to..." he finds he can't finish that sentence.

Grantaire seems to get it. "Yeah, me too," he shrugs, and returns his gaze onto the city skyline.

"I love the snow," he murmurs, almost to himself. Enjolras edges closer and positions himself beside Grantaire, leaning against the railing. "It makes everything look so clean."

Enjolras doesn't say anything, and they spend a few minutes looking at the skyline, their arms almost touching.

Eventually, snow begins to fall and Grantaire suggests they go back.

Enjolras agrees, and he turns to face Grantaire. Grantaire is looking at him, his eyes unreadable. Enjolras is about to ask him what he's thinking when Grantaire murmurs "Merry Christmas, Apollo." and presses his lips to Enjolras'.

The kiss is different; it's sweeter somehow. The pressure is gentle, and Grantaire's lips are soft. Enjolras closes his eyes. 

But it's over far too soon, and Grantaire is pulling away, his eyes hidden. He doesn't say anything, just leaves Enjolras standing in the fire escape, with the snow swirling around him.

\---

"I've got good news for you," Grantaire says, plopping down on a seat across from Enjolras.

It's the middle of January, and Enjolras is doing his homework on the dining table.

"What is it?" He asks, eyes not leaving his laptop.

He feels warmth on his forehead and a pressure, and he looks up to find Grantaire staring at him, eyes almost sad.

"That," Grantaire says, voice steady. "was the one thousandth kiss."

"Oh." Enjolras says. His face is steady, but his heart is doing something, something that makes it hurt to breathe. The back of his mind briefly wonders how this is good news. "Well, you're paid, I guess. Congratulations."

"There's more." Grantaire says, and Enjolras looks at him, face impassive. "I found a place."

"What?" Enjolras asks, because he can't have heard right.

"I found a place. Granted, it's not as nice as this, but it's good enough." Grantaire says, hands gesturing furiously. "I mean, it's near the university, which is good, and it's not that expensive to rent. I've talked to the landlord, he says I can move in by February. I'll be out of your hair by then."

"Oh." Enjolras says, unsure what to feel. His heart is beating louder now, making his chest constrict, and it hurts. "That's....good, I guess."

Grantaire smirks, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah."

"Yeah."

They sit there in silence, avoiding each other's eyes. Enjolras tries to focus on his laptop again, but he can feel a pain in his chest, and it's almost like he can't breathe. 

He wants to say something, but he can't find the words. He thinks he may be having a heart attack.

"So, I guess that's it." Grantaire says finally, moments later. He stands up. "God, I'll miss your shower. The one at my new flat isn't going to be as nice as this one. If I could, I'd marry yours."

"Then stay." Enjolras blurts out, his eyes still trained on the laptop screen.

Grantaire freezes. "What?" 

"Stay." Enjolras says again, tearing his eyes away from the screen. "Stay here."

For a split second, he catches something in Grantaire's eyes, something raw and open and vulnerable, before it's gone and his eyes are empty again.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I don't think you're aware of my finances, Enjolras." Grantaire says flatly. "I'm broke. I can't afford even half this flat, let alone water and electricity. I can't pay you, not now."

"You don't have to," Enjolras answers, and he can hear his heart thudding in his ears. He doesn't tear his gaze away from Grantaire. "You can just pay what you can. I can easily afford the rest."

Grantaire sighs. "I can't do that, Enj. It's not fair to you."

"It's alright, really it is. You can just...." Enjolras trails off. He can feel his cheeks heat up.

"Just what?" Grantaire asks. His eyes are hopeful. "Just what, Enjolras?"

"Pay me back. With kisses."

Grantaire is speechless. His mouth opens and closes, torn between answering or just keeping quiet. His eyes, however, are searching Enjolras' face. 

It takes a moment for Grantaire to respond. "Did you know that kisses aren't considered a currency?"

Enjolras glares at him, but there's no venom in it.

"Just stay here. Please."

Grantaire opens his mouth, probably to make a sarcastic remark, but he falters.

"Okay." He says instead.

"Okay." Enjolras answers. He smiles slightly, but inside, he's singing.

"Okay," Grantaire says again. He smiles slightly and kisses Enjolras lightly on the lips.

(And if Grantaire keeps his lips there for much longer, well, Enjolras isn't complaining.

Enjolras may even have tangled his hands in Grantaire's curls and pulled him closer.)


End file.
